Trapped in Darkness
by gothic kisses
Summary: The thoughts that run through her mind. All those suicidal things. She can't take it ; and she is about to snap when she gets raped.
1. Bloodless Tears

**alone ;**

girlALONED#

note: this is my first work of fiction. It has rather suicidal themes and such – and seriously speaking, I don't know how this will turn out. Suggestions for the ending please put it in your review. And also, I am not really sure under what rating should it beput under. Please reflect this tome. Thanks.

Summary: as I have mentioned, I do not know how it will end but ; the rough idea is that Hermione is sick and tired of her parents' constant quarrels and threats to divorce, often pulling her into the fight. She is a morbid cutter, yet she shuns away from the severity of this truth. She chooses to run away from reality – but she knows deep inside her – that she would need to face the music one day.

disclaimer: **nothing** belongs to me ; except this rather cliche story plot.

_prologue._

Her brown eyes wandered to the frosted panes of the glass, evoking memories in her mind. She stretched out a scarred hand and stroked the glass gently. Against her pale skin were the several multitudes of scars – in an array of colours. The faded pink of the old scars, the flamboyant blood red of the newly etched ones – they all laid on her arms, her wrists, and her hands… all by her own.

Her scars, her memories.

As she sat on the rickety oak chair, she began to think. Thoughts ran around her mind, as though a freaky dance of circles twisting and turning, molding into shape. Just like the circles, they never seemed to have an end; they just keep hounding her. She could hear to their voices going on and on, she could go crazy just listening to their irritating tone. She never knew it, but she was the mice being led by her OWN Piper's tune. She was the one trapping herself in her own dark abyss, her own deep gyves, and the one refusing to face the reality.

She turned her head slowly, and looked around her. There was no one, just a deafening silence. Coldness. Isolation. Silence. In her room, the door which had been so steadfastly locked, she could feel security. Just by being alone. She got up, drawn the curtains to the side and stared blankly into the night sky. It was beautiful indeed, in a deep midnight hue with a little sprinkling of stars – as though a diamond in the rough. It was an irony – how could she enjoy the scenery when so much is happening around her? Maybe it is because in HER room, there is only one thing that mattered. That, is her. She wouldn't care for the others. As long as the door to the outside world was locked, she was at peace.

She hoisted herself up the windowsill, unlocked the grills and sat on the parapet. She reached for her penknife in her pocket – pondered for a while before letting the cool metal come in contact with her skin. She scanned her arms for an available space. Gripping the penknife tightly, she drew it in her skin, and made a mark – and instantly from her lips escaped a sigh of relief.

The stainless steel of the blade soaked up the blood thirstily, but she wasn't satisfied. She was addicted to this form of release, addicted so much to it that the meagre pain wasn't enough. It just wasn't enough. The blood trickled down from her fresh cut, which was positioned below the main vein of her wrist, and she licked it up.

Putting down her penknife, she looked down at the tiny people below her feet. Should she jump?

She could run away from her problems. Despite what everybody looked her up to, as that smart-ass bookworm, that run-in with Malfoy… she was an emotionally struggling teenager. A teenager struggling with family problems and with life. Oh sure, she had the cream of the cake with teachers, but deep inside her – she knew she wanted to have a happy family, one she never had.

Family? Oh sure, she knew what was that about. But she had to learn how to rebel. How to talk. If she was deaf, she need not hear the hurtful words her mother hurled at her. If she was mute, she could not argue back and would have saved a lot of the people in the family from its crisis now.

Her head started its violent outrage on her, and started to pound her with thoughts of the past. She could remember – remember scenes that play through her head like a bad movie. How her mother threatened to kill her and such.

Popping a couple of sleeping pills in her mouth and gulping it down with a few sips of water, Hermione rested her weary head on the pillow, not daring to hope for what will happen tomorrow.

;triple hearts !

**author's words: **how was it? Please review and give me some ideas on how to end it. Drop me an email if you like ; and seriously tell me how you feel about this fic. Was it well written?


	2. Unwanted Dreams

**alone ;**

disclaimer : I do not own **Harry Potter**. He belongs to J.K.Rowling.

recap: Popping a couple of sleeping pills in her mouth and gulping it down with a few sips of water, Hermione rested her weary head on the pillow, not daring to hope for what will happen tomorrow – the day she will go back to Hogwarts.

# _chapter one_

Hermione woke up in the middle of the night with a rude bang and several shouts and screams. "Fuck you! Why don't you go off and visit some of those prostitutes you love so much!" her mother screamed.

"Yes, I think I will! While you enjoy yourself with some other guys!" Came her father's reply, as he slammed the door. _Magnificent wake-up call_, Hermione thought and weep into her covers. Damn, she hated how they disrupted the peace the household use to enjoy.

Damn, she hated how they could make her break down so easily. Smarty-pants bookworm Granger. Crying because of her family, how _weak_. She sobbed, and her tears ran down her face. She thought of Hogwarts. She thought of Harry and Ron. _Oh, how I missed them_, she cried.

Damn, she hated all of this fucking shit. But most of all, she hated herself. Hermione opened the door and saw her mother making out with some guy on the couch, and a path of destruction that led to the door. She knew her father had left, and this was no surprise to her.

She closed back the door, locked it and jumped into her bed. She wiped her tears on her pillow, ignoring the moans that came from the living hall. _How could she_, Hermione screamed mentally. She hated her mother, she hated her father. How could they do this to her? How could they bring her through such pain and misery?

As her mind were full of reprimanding thoughts, the door suddenly opened with a click. Hermione turned in surprise. Who could it be? Her mother did not give a screwing damn about her. In horror, Hermione saw and huddled in a corner. It was the man her mother was screwing with, and he had a lustful grin on his face. Her mother had unlocked the door to him? _WHY_? She wanted to know. What did he want with her? She shot a frightful glance outside. Her mother laid on the floor, collapsed in a heap – naked.

The man pushed Hermione on to her bed, and locked the door. Hermione's eyes opened wide in terror.

He took off his belt and started to whip her. The leather came in contact with her skin and seared it with a white-hot sensation. Her skin ripped apart, dripping with blood and staining her white gown. Her eyes flooded with tears. What was this man doing to her!

He leered lustfully at her body as she begged him to stop, kneeling on the floor. He lowered his belt, and she was grateful. But, she ran for the door. Big mistake.

He was angered. "You filthy bitch!" He roared, and pushed her on to her bed and forcing himself on her. He took out ropes from his back pocket, and tied her arms to her bedposts firmly. She struggled, but the rough ropes scratched into her skin, turning them purple. The blood throbbed beneath her wrists.

"Stop…stop…don't…" she whimpered. The man looked at her, looking at his prized catch. "Remember my name…it is John." The man smiled, showing his yellowed teeth, before starting to kiss her neck forcefully. He took her skin into his lips and sucked them forcefully. He gave her neck little bites and sucked them, showering them with his saliva.

"He…" Hermione tried to scream, but was silenced off with his vile lips on hers. _My…my first kiss_, she screamed inside. John's hands roamed freely against Hermione's body, and he hitched up the skirt of her gown and pulled down her black panties. He broke the kiss, looking at her panties and he sniffed them. With a grin, he stuffed them into Hermione's mouth to prevent her from screaming. Her eyes watered. Shame, embarrassment, fear… all of these flooded her senses.

John unbuttoned her nightgown and took her left breast into his mouth and started to suck them, and bite them. She hated how her body was reacting to him, as her nipples became erect and pink.

She wanted to shut her mind off, she didn't want to succumb to this man. She stopped struggling, as John started to do lots of perverse acts to her then­ _virgin_ body. Deep inside of her, she knew but she decided to run away. Deep inside of her, she was hiding from the harsh reality. She did not want to admit that she was being raped by this stranger. Her eyes glossed over as her mind ran away into an imaginary dreamland, where she was sitting and reading books.

Fifteen excruciating minutes. It might seem short, but it was like an eternity to Hermione. John pulled his pants and untied the ropes, but Hermione was just on her bed, spacing out. She was forcing herself to think that nothing had happened. But she knew, it had just changed her life.

Just as John left the room, Hermione changed into a casual tee and a pair of shorts. She slipped in her box of razors, two penknives and her wand into her pocket, grabbed her suitcase and ran out of the house, not caring if John was still there.

The moment she was out of the damned building, she waved her wand. The Knight Bus came roaring in its full purple glory, and she boarded the bus, ignoring the weird glances that came from the other people aboard because of her scars and bruises. Hermione paid sixteen Sickles, departed for Diagon Alley, the Leaky Cauldron, as she slept in the bed, trying hard to forget what had happened.

;triple hearts.

**author's words**: so, how was it? Drop me a review (: I think I am going to write a Draco and Hermione fic? Because that was the suggestion given by my cousin.


	3. Battling Death

**alone ;**

disclaimer : I do not own **harry potter**. I own my stupid fingers for typing this.

recap : The moment she was out of the damned building, she waved her wand. The Knight Bus came roaring in its full purple glory, and she boarded the bus, ignoring the weird glances that came from the other people aboard because of her scars and bruises. Hermione paid sixteen Sickles, departed for Diagon Alley, the Leaky Cauldron, as she slept in the bed, trying hard to forget what had happened.

_# chapter two_

Hermione trudged out of the Knight Bus sleepily and into the Leaky Cauldron, where a strong scent of Firewhiskey flooded her senses and perked her awake. Might had she been successful in trying to get the rape out of her mind, it had all came back to her. How he tied her, how he stuffed her panties into her mouth, how he took away her virginity…it came freshly to her mind.

Any one noticing the little witch could had seen her face twisting with fear, perspiring and her eyes staring into blank space widening in shock. Tom came over, to see if she was alright, but the moment his fingers laid on her shoulder – Hermione drew out her wand and pointed at Tom's neck.

"Don't…don't…touch me!" Hermione screamed, losing all control. Her eyes were that of fury, of irrational anger. But after what she has been through, after what she had to suffer…there is a limit to what a sixteen year old girl can take.

However, unknown to Hermione, a pair of startling steel-grey eyes were watching her, sipping his vodka slowly. _Yes, yes, she will be perfect…perfect for the Dark Lord's plan_… he thought. _The pain, the suffering she suffers…the emotional turmoil_… it will be just perfect. Yes, her incapability to reach out to others, it would just be perfect.

Even though she was a filthy mudblood.

Yes, she would do perfectly well as a vessel for the Dark Lord's manipulation. She would do, as the one that can grant the Dark Lord the ultimate opportunity for revenge. But, how will she do it? Seeing her adverse reaction to men.

_Fuck her, why must she be so difficult_? The man thought. _Fuck her…yes, that's it! Draco will learn to court her and fuck her…and so that she may turn to our side out of the love she has for him_, the man, or better known as Lucius Malfoy, schemed. He finished his vodka, put down a single Galleon and left the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione, on the other hand, had calmed down and went up to a room to think. Why had her mother let a stranger do such a thing? Even if she didn't love her, Hermione never thought that her mother would just let Jack do that.

Hadn't that woman have any feelings for her? Her child, who she bore for ten fucking months?

Hermione was confused. Worse then that, she was beyond confused. She felt as though she was a whore, a fucking slut – a cheap little girl who got her virginity taken away beyond her own will. Her mind pounded horribly against her, and a split avalanche of pain throbbed between her legs.

_Oh my fucking ghost of Merlin_, Hermione wanted to scream. She desperately wanted to scream, she desperately wanted to cry. All along, she wanted to save her first for Harry, the boy she loved since first year.

_Harry._ She thought, and she sobbed.

_Harry._ She thought again, and she sobbed.

She hated the world, why must the Fates be against her in such a way?  
That she felt so helpless against them?

Her eyes traveled to her suitcase, and her mind wandered to what was inside there.

Her blades.

Her only form of solace.

She rummaged through her suitcase, through all her other stuff to find a box of razors. Her trusty ol' razors.

Hermione opened the box of razors, and there laid five thin blades of razors, one bloodied by the previous night. Hermione took out one, and laid the edge on her skin, taking in the marvelous sensation of the cold metal against her skin.

She plunged in the blade, and the blood came out almost instantly. That red, coppery substance which released all her emotions with just one simple feeling – pain. She drew the blade across her wrist, and felt extreme pain when she felt the blade cutting through her vein.

It was simply thrilling. How the pain was able to take away her thoughts, how the pain could wash away her guilt. She was battling Death, and she loved it.

As Hermione finally wrenched out the blade that was deeply in her flesh, the blood flowed endlessly. The world around her spun horrifyingly black, spinning around as though she was sucked into an abyss of never-ending darkness.

And as Hermione placed her blade into her box, the world seemed to darkened and black out.

Hermione fell with a '**thud**' to the floor and the blood spilled onto the floor, staining the stone with a dark colour.

The blood spreaded out beneath her, as though she was a butterfly, a cynical dark butterfly – flying on the crimson wings of blood.

Whose wings, sadly, are about to be wretched from her back.

;triple hearts ,

**Author's notes: **thanks to those who reviewed, HopelessRomanticGoth, midnightwanderer01 and NO such things as HAPPY songs ; you really made my day ! Yes I think I will spin this story into a Hermione x Draco fic ;

x---. Sorry for the rather bad writing, exams had just finished and my brain is drained from over usage.


	4. Mentally Deranged

**alone ;**

disclaimer : I do not own **harry potter**. I own my thick, fat head.

recap: Hermione fell with a '**thud**' to the floor and the blood spilled onto the floor, staining the stone with a dark colour.

The blood spreaded out beneath her, as though she was a butterfly, a cynical dark butterfly – flying on the crimson wings of blood.

Whose wings, sadly, are about to be wretched from her back.

_# chapter three_

_Laughter._

_Hermione, aged three years old, had a bounce in her every step as she walked towards her parents. "Daddy! Mummy! Look, I caught a butterfly!" she shrieked with absolute glee._

Her parents looked at each other and smiled. "That's marvelous, darling," her father spoke, while her mother nodded. Hermione smiled, as they patted their head.

Suddenly, Hermione's eyes opened in pain as the grip on her head started to tighten, and she looked up, her eyes watering with pain. In front of her was John, complete with that sinister smile and oh-so-what-the-fucked up face of his. "Come, my darling…" He smiled, and his hand reached out for her…

Hermione clutched the sides of the bed, and screamed out loud.  
She woke up, her eyes wide in fear and beads of perspiration trickling down her back.

Hermione took time to calm down, before she took in what was around her.

She was in a ward of St. Mungo's, on a white sheet bed with curtains drawn around her. Her wrist was bandaged and her wand beside her.

"Look guys, Hermione's awake!" A male voice spoke, his voice full of joy.

_Harry_.

Then she saw her wrist. And realized what had happened.

Fuck.

They had found her bleeding and unconscious on the floor of the Leaky Cauldron when Tom floo-ed them because one of the portraits in the room had saw Hermione's suicidal act.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!

"Hermione, why did you…" Ron started to say and started to place his arm on her when her eyes filled with tears and she burst into hysterics.

"Sod off! Don't touch me!" Hermione screamed, her eyes filled with hurt, anger and terror. She flung her arms wildly, determined not to let any fucking male near her.

The eyes of Harry and Ron held confusion, and Hermione knew it well. What had happened to her? She couldn't say. It just made her feel cheap. Fuckingly cheap.

Thoughts of then flooded her mind.

It tormented her, it made her feel like dying.

"Leave me alone…just…leave…" Hermione stared into blank space, muttering the words and her head rocking back and forth, as though she was a mental retard.

Harry and Ron looked at her in surprise, but they could not make out any words. What in the world happened to their Hermione, their clever Hermione full of snappy comeback wit?

The day to go back to Hogwarts was drawing nearer, could they make her smile again?

By the looks of it, it was going to be a hell of a task.

Hermione's eyes started to wander around the ward, looking for her suitcase, looking for her blades.

Her eyes rested on a small box, with an elaborate clasp in the front.

She reached for it clumsily, knocking over her wand, which was placed on the table. Her eyes were masked with a hysterical sheen, and all she wanted was the need for blood.

As she opened the box and took out her blades, she seemed to have forgotten that Harry and Ron were still there. She selected a free area that had not been marked with her "trophies" and placed her blade there, preparing to slit it hard and clean.

"Stop, Hermione!" Harry and Ron commanded, but she couldn't hear.

Hermione was now trapped, trapped in her own darkness, and refusing to see the light.

Hermione was now, by what others could see, mentally deranged.

;triple hearts

**author's notes: **sorry for the fuckingly short chapter, but I am facing some bad issues and well, I just hate myself. Please review for every chapter to make me happy, please? This chapter really must suck, but I am really short of ideas.

tHe-EvIl-BaStArD ; no, it does not sound like me. Unfortunately, I wish to bust your brains out for making such an inconsiderate statement. You do not know me, don't act as if you do.

genius04 ; no, I am not an awesome writer. There are many more fabulous writers with better commands of the language, but thanks anyway, you certainly made my day (:

midnightwanderer01 ; thanks! I will continue (: despite my meagre reviews…but at least, you were encouraging!

HopelesslyRomanticGoth ; really, you think so? Thank you! I will continue though, but I will update slower due to recuperation of my brain.

# please review every chapter! Especially tHe-EvIl-BaStArD – quan chek kai!


	5. Platinum Manwhore

**alone;**

disclaimer: I own NOTHING. I only will own a fucking llama, albeit that fucking llama lets me own it. But unfortunately, no stinky llama lets me own it, so yeah – I own nothing.

recap:

"Stop, Hermione!" Harry and Ron commanded, but she couldn't hear.

Hermione was now trapped, trapped in her own darkness, and refusing to see the light.

Hermione was now, by what others could see, mentally deranged.

_# chapter four_

Hermione started into the blank space, staring at the boundless sky aboard the Hogwarts Express. Ron and Harry were worried for her, and although they now knew her vehement loathing for males, they could not help but to sneak glances at her to check if she was alright.

Hermione's eyes had lost that spark, that spark that had enthralled them so much – it was a part of her, along with her trademark bushy hair and intelligence. Something had happened to Hermione over the holidays, and she was keeping mum about it, as though it was a deep, terrifying secret that would threaten to rip her apart.

Which it was. A deep, terrifying secret that Hermione was afraid that others would find out. Even though Hermione wanted to hide away from it and act as though everything was okay, subconsciously she had grown to hate males – hating their every touch, their voice and such.

And even her very own best friends Ron and Harry.

However, deep inside her – Hermione was struggling.

Oh what the fuck, yes! She was struggling.

Struggling to guard the secret, struggling to act as though nothing was happening.

Difficult, yes – but the clogs in Hermione's intricate mind started to turn, that fabulous mind that would put any male chauvinist pig who was determined that girls are intellectually worse then them to shame. Should she or not? This emotional beating down was taking a freaking toll on her.

And yes, she hated it.

Then she felt Ron and Harry's eyes on her. It made her feel weird. Was something on? Why were they sneaking glances between them at her? Were they looking at her because…?

She felt cheap. She couldn't help it. After the incident, she just felt cheap. And dark and suicidal. She looked up at the sky.

The clear, boundless sky. That was so beautiful. Her train of thoughts bustled by, trying to force that fucking scenario out of her head. She hated it, she hated it so much! It kept reminding her of that fifteen minutes of terror and pure shame.

The feelings that she felt could not be described by mere words. If you asked her to write it out, she could probably write a whole 5 foot of parchment, and even more – words that were just floating around in her mind.

She could just choke, overflowing with tears.

Her special first.

Just as she was hell bent on forcing the scenario out of her head and focus, somebody had to bring her from her heaven of daydreams to the pits of hell – reality.

Guess who.

The most fucked up man-whore you could ever lay your eyes upon.

Draco.

Draco Serpentine Malfoy.

"Hurry up, you freaking mudblood. In case you didn't see the letter that was sent to you over the holidays, you were supposed to patrol with me. Not that I want to associate myself with you filthy mudbloods anyway…"

**slap**.

On Draco's face, that beautiful, perfect face – started to have a red, swollen palm mark, courtesy of Hermione.

"Don't. Remind. Me. Of. The. Holidays." Hermione said, through gritted teeth and eyes welling up with tears, before wiping them on her sleeve of her robe, and running out of the compartment.

While Draco Malfoy stood there, with death glares from Harry and Ron, rubbing his cheek and smiling, correction – smirking, as though a sinister plan had played through in his mind.

;triple hearts

**author's notes: **thanks for all your reviews! I love them all – with the exception of Franz Kafka, who I suggest read what I have to say to your "review" – at the end of the fic.

x--- . General stuff ;  
yeah – as pointed out by my "counselor" quan chek kai – pregnancy lasts for 9 months and not the ten I have written, and wings are wretched not wrenched. Sorry for any misunderstandings, yeah?

tHe-EvIl-BaStArD: heh, thanks chek kai! You are such a lovely writer, aw! I knew you were an horny asshole, but yeah! Thanks for saying it's quite good. Coming from our class' top English student – I'll consider this a compliment!

NO such things as HAPPY songs: Yes, I have updated (: I have been trying hard to update, but my results for English were just…simply depressing. But thanks for your support, you totally rock my fanfiction writing world!

davinong: hey davin! Yeah, chek kai's getting quite pissed – but thanks for reviewing! And such nice reviews too, contrary to what you wrote for him :D My English is not that fabulous, I still need to get what are the meanings of the words chek kai writes…

midnightwanderer01: You totally rock my fanfiction writing world too! My updates come…when I am really down or something, so yeah. I will try to improve hard to let my fics to be more enjoyable, I promise!

Franz Karfka: I would consider your review a flame, as it holds no constructive criticism and your command of English is absolute deplorable – you spelt your words wrongly. I strongly suggest a dictionary is in order. And my story sucks? Well, you could give me on some criticism on **why** it sucks and I will try to improve. Simply telling me it sucks doesn't make me a fabulous writer, or going to make me delete the story. Oh, I have **never** mentioned I want to be Hermione, and do NOT call me a shameless "suethor" or whatever it is (I seriously suspect it is something wrong with your spelling) because – if you are the one who wants to be like Hermione and is jealous, I suggest you screw a toilet bowl. You are not JK.Rowling and you are not **fit** to pass such comments, seeing that you have not written fics yourself. This is a FIC, hello? Anything can happen. And yes, who are you to pass judgement if we want to be Hermione or not? Because I certainly don't. And for your opinion – I think Draco's hot and you are in NO position to banish my romantic fantasies, okay? Do you mean you are Hermione or Ginny in that position to say?

And also, if you would like to think my fic is one of the worst crap has to offer, think what you want. Because in my opinion, you are one of the worst scum that ever walked the Earth. So, screw you.

**-------------------------------------**

**author's side notes** :

I would like to say I am not that vulgar in real life, but it has really pissed me off that somebody jumped into a conclusion saying that Draco is a yellow-bellied bully. Aw, that person must be jealous of Draco, that filthy scum of sodding shit.

Please review! (: and only constructive criticism will be appreciated as well as genuine well wishing reviews, not like some toilet-fucker that as came to dirty the name of "flamers".


	6. Weirdo!

**alone ;**

disclaimer: That's freaking it. This disclaimer goes for the rest of the chapters, okay? I own NOTHING until my ass-like llama decides to let me own it. (And yes, from the llama bit I think you can guess one of my favourite cartoons is Disney's The Emperor's New Groove. Check it out. Die laughing!)

x.-------------------------->

recap: "Don't. Remind. Me. Of. The. Holidays." Hermione said, through gritted teeth and eyes welling up with tears, before wiping them on her sleeve of her robe, and running out of the compartment.

While Drano Malfoy stood there, with death glares from Harry and Ron, rubbing his cheek and smiling, correction – smirking, as though a sinister plan had played through in his mind.

_# chapter five_

Ron and Harry were genuinely concerned for Hermione, and were perturbed by her eccentric behaviour. What had happened to her?

From _their_ Hermione, one that could hold her conversation well, highly intellectual witch to _that_ Hermione. Spacing out, screaming her head off and just being so distant away from everybody, guarding some sort of secret.

And it was definitely scaring them.

Ron and Harry heard Lavender and Parvati gossiping at the Gryffindor table during breakfast, and what they heard confirmed that Hermione was weird. Definitely weird.

"Did you hear at night? Hermione would just cry and cry…"

"Like, duh! She's getting creepy. Her grades are dropping and such!"

Even teachers were getting concerned over it, and Hermione was just as though she was turning more and more into a shadow…

Slipping out of their grasp.

Ron and Harry could not bear it any longer. They wanted to find out the truth. The truth, beyond Hermione's guarded exterior.

"Come on, Hermione! Tell us!" Ron cornered the bushy haired bookworm when she came out of Ancient Runes. Harry took out his wand when he saw her hand twitched to her bag.

Harry and Ron cornered Hermione to the wall, whose eyes were welling with tears.

"Don't touch me! Don't! Go away! Leave me alone…" Hermione cried, flinging her arms wildly – she was really scared of Harry and Ron.

But had she forgotten the friendship that they used to share?

Hermione, in her rampant fear, tripped and knocked her head against the wall of the Hogwarts corridor, leaving a trail of blood as she fell down unconscious.

The portraits gasped as Hermione blanked out, as Harry and Ron just stared. Not knowing what to do.

x.------------------>

author's note: yeah, sorry for the cliffy (or that's what I think). But yeah, I was running out of ideas (I don't really plan) and so…you can probably guess it out? Stupid me. Sorry people for the really short chapter but I just failed my subjects and am in a veeerrrryyy fucked up mood now. Sorry!

I promise the next chapter will be longer (:

Definitely.  
And yes, well-wishers out there can wish me good luck for my audition for SNYO (Singapore National Youth Orchestra).

Ciaos (:


	7. Art of Stacking SkeleGro

**alone ;

* * *

**

recap: Hermione, in her rampant fear, tripped and knocked her head against the wall of the Hogwarts corridor, leaving a trail of blood as she fell down unconscious.

The portraits gasped as Hermione blanked out, as Harry and Ron just stared. Not knowing what to do.

* * *

x.----------------------------->

# _chapter six

* * *

_

"Where am I?" Hermione stared, wide-eyed, at Ron and Harry.

"This bed's fluffy!" Hermione smiled, poking the white mattress with her finger, and smiled innocently.

"What's this?" Hermione took up her wand and poked the flower vase with it, and immediately it self-combusted into a million pieces. Hermione began to cry.

Ron and Harry started at each other. What the fuck?

Why was Hermione acting this way? They needed a damn answer, thank you very much. Who wouldn't, seeing their unusually intelligent friend acting like this…this three-year-old baby, or a very, very childish retard.

So, which was it?

They needed Madam Pomfrey, who was just over there, bustling with healing potions and stocking humongous bottles of Skele-Gro.

Hermione was suffering from such a condition and what the fuck was she doing? Stacking little bottles of Skele-Gro?

"Madam Pomfrey, I was just wondering…what happened to Hermione?" Harry asked, but was cut ahead by Madam Pomfrey.

"Harry dear, yes I know you are concerned about Hermione but can't you see I am stacking bottles of Skele-Gro, I am quite bu…" Madam Pomfrey had not finished her sentence when Ron snapped. _How could such a thick faggot be appreciative of the art of stacking bloody bottles when a perfectly fine student has suddenly become some kind of retard!_

"Damn those bottles and your stacking to bloody hell! What I need to know is what happened to Hermione!"

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, and reminded them strongly of Professor.McGonagall, save the graying hair and those fine wrinkles. "Language, Mr.Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey said, before straightening her apron and walking to Hermione.

"Old woman! Old woman!" Hermione cried happily at the sight of Madam Pomfrey, who looked truly disgusted. She shot Hermione a look, which immediately shut her lips and continued to play with her wand.

"The thing I can say is, the Miss.Granger you see now is NOT the Miss.Granger we all know. Here, is a Miss.Granger that has dated back to her nursing days because of the concussion her head suffered." Madam Pomfrey stated, as Ron and Harry exchanged guilty looks. _They_ were the ones who caused that.

"She could recover, but part of her sub consciousness has been trying to hide, and now that it has the chance, it probably won't really surface. So I say, she's probably going to be like that for a very long while. You could do things to jolt her memory, though." Madam Pomfrey said, and cast a sleeping spell on Hermione, who had successfully broken quite a number of vases with her wand.

Ron and Harry looked at each other. It was quite depressing really.

"Oh my gosh. Hermione…" Harry held Hermione's hand, and sat by the bed. While Ron stood behind him.

No words were exchanged, but they knew it was so terribly wrong.

And it was all their fault.

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Author's Note: okay, this wasn't exactly the long chapter I have promised…but…AWAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER, as it will feature…

DRACO MALFOY!

Yes, that's about it. Please review for my other fics too (:

Ciaos,

_gothic.kisses

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